


Hostage Situation

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan normally enjoys taking hostages, but it isn't as fun when they talk back and torture isn't allowed. But sometimes being a theatrical criminal is a good thing, and it makes an annoying situation better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostage Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Playground_of_Alcor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Playground_of_Alcor/gifts).



> So this is a request for one of my friends, The_Playground_of_Alcor (eziocauthon89 on Tumblr), who asked for Menacing Juggling. And so this was created. Enjoy!

Ryan usually enjoyed it when the crew ended up taking someone hostage. In most cases, someone was taken because the crew needed something from them, usually information that Gavin couldn’t get or that was needed sooner than they could find themselves. It was normally Ryan who was left to stay with the hostages. Even being stuck in a space with the big, bad Vagabond was enough to loosen the tongues of many, and Ryan was more than capable of convincing the most stubborn to speak.

It was always that part of it that was the most fun, playing with the crew’s newest victims. Mass murder was amazing, but dealing with the hostages was a lot more personal. It was a different kind of thrill, like a cat baiting a mouse, where Ryan switched out his automatic rifle and rocket launcher for a knife and small pistol. It was enjoyable, having so much control over someone else’s fate, being able to take his time and try out new things. This was a part of his job, after all, and Ryan reveled in it.

The conversations were always interesting. The begging and pleading and bargaining was almost stereotypical – something that television and movies got right. Hostages blubbered out reasons why they should be spared, why they were different, and Ryan’s favorite was when someone just shouted out that they wanted to catch the season finale of a show they never got around to watching. The best was when they tried to negotiate, when they thought he could easily be bought with money and objects, like trying to encourage a dog with a treat. Leading them on was downright enjoyable, and then seeing their faces when Ryan suddenly and violently offered a rebuttal was even better.

But this was not one of the more enjoyable captures. In fact, it was the most boring kind of a hostage situation, and there was nothing Ryan could do about it.

Ryan jerked the zip tie cuffs tight around the wrists of their hostage with a scowl, ignoring the pained hiss the man forced through his teeth as Ryan stood up. Michael stood nearby, his gun trained on their hostage, just in case the guy was a complete idiot who thought running was a good idea. Though so far he hadn’t had a promising track record of good decisions.

All of this was happening instead of the military base heist the crew had been planning for ages, all because of this asshole that Ryan couldn’t do anything with. Mere hours before the Fakes were set to start their heist, someone had gotten it in their head that taking out the crew’s hacker was a good idea. If Michael and Ryan hadn’t been there at the time, it might’ve actually worked.

It had been Gavin’s job to grab bikes for them to use, because for some reason motorcycles had to make their way into every crew heist, even if it was extremely impractical. And since Gavin had a tendency to destroy most of the vehicles he drove, Ryan and Michael were there to grab bikes as soon as they were found and make sure the crew had at least a couple.

The attack had come quite suddenly. One minute, Gavin had been arguing with Michael over the comms about whether or not a jump was possible on his new shitty little motorcycle, and if it would damage the bike. The next minute, there was gunfire and Gavin shouted out, screaming for the other two to come help.

Michael had been close enough to get to Gavin in a handful of seconds. Even in that short of time, the wheels of Gavin’s bike had been shot out and he’d crashed into the railing of a bridge. Michael managed to pull Gavin onto his motorcycle and get them away before either of them got hurt more than a bullet to Gavin’s leg.

Ryan had gone after the shooter, ignoring the activity in the comms. The others had been able to hear everything through the earpieces as they all went about their prep work, and it had become an explosion of sound and overlapping voices. Ryan had left it to Michael and Gavin to explain the situation, focusing only on the person who had targeted one of theirs.

The only reason this man hadn’t been killed as soon as Ryan caught up with him, was because he was clearly a professional hitter, not just some random rogue rival crew member with a grudge and a little too much ambition. He wasn’t too close to the actual scene, and he’d been hastily packing up a rifle and collecting shell casings when Ryan found him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that there were only one or two good camping spots for a shooter, he very well could’ve gotten away without the crew finding him.

Professional hitters like that were usually hired by someone or responding to a bounty. Either way, it led to someone bigger and badder and with more of a bone to pick with the crew, and Geoff wanted to know which of their enemies that was. It was a close decision on his part, because Ryan was half a second away from snapping his gun up to the man’s head and pulling the trigger when Geoff made the call. The deadly shot instead became a sharp blow to the head with the butt of an automatic pistol, and the man had dropped.

Gavin and Michael were met by Jack, who got a freaked out and babbling Gavin away and told Michael to go help Ryan. Geoff ordered them to get the man secure, he wanted to know who was behind this bullshit, but he wanted to be there himself. They weren’t to do anything except make sure the man stayed in one place until Geoff was there.

Considering that Geoff first had to make sure Gavin was okay, and was then helping Jeremy check for anything Ryan missed in the area that could be used as leverage in a conversation, it would probably be a little while until he came around.

Which meant Ryan and Michael were just hanging out in an empty warehouse, with a hostage who was only just starting to fully regain consciousness, for an indeterminate amount of time until Geoff got there. Unable to do anything else than just sit. It was not how Ryan had wanted to spend his afternoon.

Once the shooter was securely strapped down, Michael lowered his gun, and he looked about as happy about it as Ryan felt. He was scowling and bounced his pistol in his hand absently, shoulders tight. Ryan wouldn’t have been surprised if Michael just snapped his arm up and shot the guy.

Ryan clapped a hand down on Michael’s shoulder, using his other hand to push down Michael’s gun. “Don’t use that. Punch him if you have to. I’ll say it happened when I grabbed the guy,” Ryan advised, and Michael looked at him for a moment before putting away the gun. He huffed and turned away, and then spun on his heel and drove his fist directly at the guy’s face.

Michael’s blow landed on the man’s nose with an audible crack, and blood immediately started flowing down his face. The shooter shouted and jerked back, and Ryan was pretty sure if he hadn’t regained consciousness by then, he was certainly awake now. “That felt good,” Michael said, wiping spots of blood off his knuckles. “And definitely happened when you found him.”

“Of course. He fell forward and smacked his face on the ground. Unfortunate, really,” Ryan agreed with a thin smile, removing his mask so it could actually be seen. The mask was threatening on its own, but he could do better without it.

The shooter rubbed his face on his shoulder, and when he looked up again, there was a mocking smile on his face that was close to an expression Ryan had used. Though usually the people tied to the chair weren’t grinning like that.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that, are you?” he scoffed, though his words were thick from the blood and broken nose. “Masters keeping their guard dogs on short leashes? How sad.”

Ryan leaned against a wall and pulled one of his knives from his jacket, pointing it at the shooter. “You should stop talking,” he warned. “Makes it easier on everyone.”

“Or what? I fell down some stairs when you clocked me in the head as well?” the shooter scoffed, and Ryan narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t used to people they’d taken hostage being so flippant, and it was just annoying that he couldn’t actually do anything about it. A few bumps and bruises wouldn’t really be noticed or even questioned, but going much further would just piss off Geoff when he’d expressly told them not to. Accidentally breaking a nose was one thing, but Ryan didn’t think he could convince Geoff the man had accidentally run into his knife multiple times.

“Do we have anything to gag this asshole with?” Michael asked, patting down his pockets like he expected to find something there.

“Unless you want to use something you’re wearing, no. Just be glad I still had those ties with me,” Ryan said.

“I’d be surprised if you _didn’t_ have the zip ties,” Michael scoffed. “Seems like an appropriately creepy thing for you to carry.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, absently flipping his knife between his fingers.

The shooter looked between the two crew members, and he almost looked _amused_. Hostages weren’t supposed to look amused, they were supposed to be frightened. It was infuriating.

“It’s amazing anyone is afraid of you all, honestly. Sloppy, unprepared, unprofessional, and you’re just showing off knife skills a five-year-old can learn,” the shooter quipped. Ryan scowled and pushed himself off the wall, flipping the knife in his hand and grabbing it in a position very convenient for stabbing.

“Just showing off?” Ryan growled, and Michael looked at him warily.

“Dude, chill. I don’t think you can explain a fucking stab wound as well,” he said, and Ryan waved a hand dismissively before reaching into his jacket. “Ryan, Geoff is gonna fucking kill you.”

“For what?” Ryan said, pulling two more knives out of his jacket. The shooter just watched, mocking amusement on his bloody face. “I’m just correcting our friend here about what it’s like when I do want to show off.”

Michael looked like he wasn’t sure if he should just move away and let Ryan do his thing or try to stop him, frozen in a half-ready pose that he tended to fall into when Gavin or Jeremy were about to do something ridiculously daredevil-ish and stupid. Ryan just grinned and him and flipped a knife up into the air, followed by another, until he was easily juggling the three.

In a second, Michael’s worried look faded into surprise and then laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat. He attempted to suppress it and sounded like he was choking in his attempts not to laugh. Ryan was pretty sure none of the crew had seen him juggle anything before, let alone the sharp knives that he expertly tossed up in the air and grabbed by the handles.

The shooter looked bewildered, brows furrowed and apparently oblivious to the fact that blood was still streaming from his nose into his slightly open mouth. His confused look slowly changed to one of contempt, and he turned and spit blood from his mouth, shaking his head.

“Great, you’re a circus freak. Explains the face paint. Real threatening,” he said. Ryan’s grin grew and he plucked one of the knives from the air. Instead of tossing it straight up, he flicked his wrist and it shot forward, slamming into the chair the shooter was fastened to and lodging in the wood a hairsbreadth from his shoulder. The second and third knife followed quickly, one sticking between the shooter’s fingers and one at his crotch.

The shooter let out a small squeak, staring at the knives with wide eyes and very carefully not moving, since each one was close enough to cut if he moved wrong. “And _that_ is how a threatening professional shows off,” Ryan said proudly.

Apparently that was the last straw for Michael, who broke down into raucous laughter, leaning against the warehouse wall and grabbing at his chest. The shooter didn’t answer and Ryan chuckled, grabbing a fourth knife to play with, twirling it as he had the original.

So maybe he couldn’t actually hurt the guy, but at least he was having more fun than he had been hoping to.


End file.
